


I'd do Niall

by alongthewatchtower



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Comeplay, Crying, Dominance/submission, M/M, Misgendering Language, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Panty Kink, Power Imbalance, Power Kink, Spanking, Threesome, Verbal Humiliation, gratuitous use of the word cunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alongthewatchtower/pseuds/alongthewatchtower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry, the gorgeous idiot, doesn’t even pause to think about it. “I'd do Niall,” he says.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or: Harry gets to do Niall. Because Louis gives his permission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd do Niall

**Author's Note:**

> this has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. it is pure filth. you have been warned. mind the tags. unbeta'ed, because I am impatient.

 

It wasn't anything new that Louis was struggling to keep his eyes off Harry on stage. He could predict he'd be lectured afterwards, but tonight was extra special, making it extra hard to keep his eyes away.

 

 

See, panties weren't at _all_ a new thing for Harry. He loved them. Not to mention how good he looked in them. He'd already had such a good time in Paris, giving the crowd a flash of his bright pink briefs, so Louis had to get him a special present for Italy.

 

 

It was _Pride_ , for fuck's sake. Pretty, emerald green panties with white lace trim were never more appropriate.

 

Louis had sat Harry down on the hotel bed, passing them over in the fancy box from the shop. Possibly the only good thing about being forcefully closeted was that they could throw it back in management's face; _“I can't be seen buying lingerie in Harry-size, can I now? You'll have to go on a little shopping trip for me.”_

 

 

It was a little humiliating, but that was the best bit. Louis could remind Harry that a near-stranger had gone into a shop with Louis' print-out, had to search the shop for the panties Louis had circled, had to live the rest of their life knowing that Harry Styles loved to wear women's underwear. Not the well-fitting, made-for-cocks lingerie, not this time, but underwear meant for female persons, too-tight across the front and sitting oddly across the hips, not-quite-right and obvious. Harry would always whimper and blush pink and writhe around in embarrassment – he _loved i_ t.

 

 

Harry had unwrapped them with careful hands and reverent eyes. “I want to wear them tonight.”

 

 

“'Course, Haz. That’s why I bought them."

 

 

“No, _tonight_ tonight,” Harry had emphasised. “Like... put them on now. Wear them all night.”

 

God, his boy was _so good_.

 

“Well, good thing I got this too, then,” Louis said, procuring a long green ribbon, the exact same shade as the panties. “Pretty little headband for you to hide under whatever filthy scarf you wrap around those curls tonight.”

 

“You love my headscarves,” Harry said while Louis knelt behind him, tying up the ribbon and then making sure it was concealed under a stupid-expensive silk scarf.

 

“Mm-hmm, and I love _you_.”

 

So Harry was prancing around the stage in Milan, singing his heart out and throwing water on the crowd, and Louis couldn't stop thinking about how the satin and lace would feel under Harry's jeans, how riled up he'd be from wearing panties in front of 80,000 people. In the age of iPhones and Instagram videos, it was already a risk, but with the DVD being filmed it was doubled; if Harry wasn't careful, a flash of his panties would be immortalised in high-definition from twenty-two different camera angles.

 

Harry was so _naughty,_ and it suited him. Between the panties, and it being Pride, Harry was looking the happiest he had all tour.

 

They'd brought back question time. Louis had rolled his eyes when the subject had first been broached and huffed, _“Sorry – didn't we just get a big speech a few weeks ago about how it 'wasn't working out’?”_

  
Phrases like _“DVD”_ and _“best behaviour”_ were thrown back at him. Gosh, Louis just couldn't _wait_ for yet another human pyramid and _“what do you miss most while on tour?”_  Groundbreaking. Revolutionary.

 

 

Here and now, “ _What would you do if you were a girl for a day?_ ” Liam reads out, eyes scanning over the other four. “Uh – Harry Styles, you've got an answer for us, what is it?”

 

 

Harry, the gorgeous idiot, doesn’t even pause to think about it. “I'd do Niall,” he says, pointing right at the Irishman. Louis' face contorts reflexively, and out of sheer habit he instantly relaxes again. _Twenty-two different camera angles._

 

Liam turns right away, laughing uncomfortably. “Oh, _God_.”

 

 

Most people will miss it – Louis isn't sure if he hopes the shippers do or don't catch it – but Harry's eyes flick over Louis so fast. Little fucking tease.

 

 

“Right, well, that's gonna, uh,” Liam chokes out awkwardly. “That'll be all over Twitter in the morning. Front page of The Sun.”

 

In his peripheral, Louis catches Harry and Niall fistbumping. Fuckers.

   
_“Happy Pride!”_ Louis hears Harry saying to the crowd, but his voice isn't half as loud as it had just been, the small smile on his face doesn't fully mask his discomfort, not to those who know him, and probably 80,000 fans besides, and that – that was it, wasn't it. ' _I'd do Niall_ _’_  is the best Harry will get this Pride, the next one and probably the one after that too, so... he can have it. Fuck the talking-to it’ll probably inspire.

 

 

He'll pay for it, of course - but Harry has made plenty of things clear to Louis, and wanting _that_  is definitely one of them. Louis suddenly wants to cut the set short, to drag Harry back to the hotel room by his belt loop and make him pay.

 

 

Louis licks his lips, the movement not registering until he’s done so. He hadn't expected the foreplay to start _this_ early. He snaps out of it when Liam turns pleading eyes to him, and stipulates: “PG rating.”

 

 

“Tommo, what you got for us? If you were a girl. There's -  I mean – there's loads of things to do."

 

Harry had his moment, the naughty little shit, and, fuck – Louis isn’t ever one to be out-naughtied.

 

 

“Well,” Louis starts, gesturing to his chest, “I 'spose you've got boobs, haven't you...”

 

There. Now they’re both in trouble.

 

 

The show finally, finally ends, fireworks and all. Running off stage together, Louis spots the pile of crap that's been tossed up on stage. Thankfully since the incident with Niall's knee, nothing hard has been thrown up. A few teddy bears, a lot of things with twitter handles written on them, and some bras.

 

 

_Bras._

 

 

While the lights are down, they still aren't invisible, but Louis swipes a flimsy looking piece of nylon and elastic anyway.

 

*

 

Niall’s seen his bandmates naked before.

 

They’ve shared hotel rooms and beds and tourbuses, venue showers and dressing rooms. So while Niall’s not usually of the dick-loving persuasion, he doesn’t do the whole awkward averting of eyes. He’s secure enough in his love of women not to be threatened by his bandmates changing in the same room. Liam usually whips his shirt off as soon as they come offstage, and as soon as they’re in a closed space, Harry becomes practically allergic to pants.

 

It’s why it’s strange that Harry isn’t bouncing around with his cock out when they come offstage in Milan. The dressing room is full of the usual suspects, Paul and Preston and a few other people, but both Lou and Caroline’s kids are back at the hotel, so it’s unusual that Harry isn’t rushing out of his clothes. Even Zayn has handed his stage clothes off before Harry’s shirtless. Louis has Liam in a headlock over near the racks, and Zayn’s poking at Caroline while Lou swats him away, but Niall’s focus is elsewhere. He pauses, sweatpants only half on, when he catches Harry’s expression.

 

His face is – odd. Harry’s biting his lip, flush high on his cheeks. He almost looks like he’s in pain. Harry starts to wiggle out of his skinnies, and Niall realises abruptly that he probably is – his cock is a hard line where it’s been pressed up under the waistband of his jeans, flushed head just peeking out the top of his panties.

 

_What._

 

 

Niall glances back in a double-take that makes him glad nobody’s watching. (Mainly Louis, who’d probably have his balls for staring. Either that or he’d wink and say something lewd, invite Niall to join in.)  Sure enough, Niall’s eyes haven’t deceived him. Harry’s cock is straining against the white lace _– lace_ – edge of his panties, which are green and pretty in a way boys underwear _isn’t._

 

Niall feels his face flush as Harry turns towards the wall, kicking off his stage jeans and reaching for an equally constrictive pair. In profile, Niall can see the lace is cut high on the curve of his arse, showing a not insignificant amount of tanned arse cheek, the smooth skin where thigh meets that gentle swell that’s just begging for the attention of somebody’s mouth.

 

In his own pants, Niall’s dick twitches.

 

_Um._

 

See, Niall’s straight. Mostly. He’s all about the fairer sex, loves soft curves and the warmth between a woman’s thighs. He’s not homophobic, not even in the awkward no-homo way Liam can be sometimes. Niall isn’t scared of going in for the retaliatory grope or sack-whack. He’s always been of the opinion that if you’d rather get your car serviced by a mechanic who owns the same type of vehicle, you should. He’s been known to throw things at Louis and Harry when they get hot and heavy on the bus couch, sure, but that’s less about the gay and more about spunk on communal furnishings.

 

Niall can appreciate that Zayn is a very beautiful man, in an objective kind of way, the same way he knows Harry’s mouth looks like it’s made for sucking cock and Liam’s biceps mean he could probably lift people up and fuck them against a wall. It doesn’t mean he’s interested in sexing them up personally.

 

 

But as he watches Harry take a deep breath and then carefully cup his hand around his cock, holding it in place so he can zip his jeans up around a bulge that’s not disguised at all by the extra layer – well. Perhaps Niall needs to, uh, reconsider a few things.

 

Harry shrugs into a long plaid shirt, and Niall realises with a start that he’s still only got his sweats half on, and yanks them up his legs. He turns away to find his hoodie, but he can’t stop picturing that damp spot he saw, just under the head of Harry’s cock, that line in his underwear undeniably male but strangely pretty, almost uncomfortably so.

 

There’s a hot, swoopy feeling making itself known in Niall’s stomach.

 

 

Bloody Harry, with his _“I’d do Niall,”_ and his onstage dickslapping and his biteable arse and his lacy fucking _panties._

 

**

 

Finally getting up to their hotel suite, Louis shuts the door behind him and Harry. He might accidentally leave it unlocked, but so what? Security are patrolling the floor and each elevator, and not very many people can get past them. Only people like Niall, who’ll probably be coming by to retrieve his laptop charger from the depths of Louis’ bag. People like Niall, who'd walked in on Harry and Louis fucking hundreds of times before and had long ago stopped caring. People like Niall, who Harry wanted to _do_.

 

Louis is possessive as hell. People have seen it, people _know_ it, that they'd better not take it too far with Harry in front of Louis, because Louis _doesn't like it_. Harry and Louis have discussed it before, frustrated and uncomfortable, staying up late and holding each other in bed and wishing for another life where they haven’t made the decision to put off being out and open for their chance at a spot in a band. Where Louis is just allowed to fling an arm around Harry, plant a kiss on his cheek and make it clear for the world. 

 

 

 

This is Niall, though. Niall’s one of them. He’s been with them from the start, knows them, respects them, respects their relationship, has always been in love with their love, and was a brother and a cheerleader to both of them. Harry hasn't deeply hurt Louis because Niall - Niall's completely safe. There’s no hurt feelings here.

 

 

There is something else, though.

 

 

“So you'd do Niall, would you?” Louis asks casually, kicking off his vans.

 

Harry gives a happy shrug as he follows suit, the dork, pulling off his shirt. “If I was a girl. Why not? I already get to do _you_ daily. If I was a girl, well... at least Niall knows his way around one of them.”

 

“You wanna be a girl, then?” Louis asks.

 

“That wasn't the question.”

 

 

“That wasn't an answer,” Louis counters. As he crosses the room towards Harry, he pulls the bra out from where it was stashed, tucked into the waistband at the back of his pants. “I think you wanna be a girl tonight, Harry.”

 

 

Harry blinks at the bra in Louis' hand, and Louis can just see the wheels turning as his fingers come up to tug at his lip. They don’t always play like this, because when they do they go all in, and the humiliation of it winds Harry up so hard that he’s just _wrecked_  after. But tonight - tonight he deserves it, and Louis is going to give it to him.

 

 

“You've been very cheeky tonight, Harry,” Louis says, stepping forward so he can shove Harry up against the wall, noting with satisfaction the way Harry’s eyes go wide. He reaches out, lightly trailing his fingers across the front of Harry's pants. Predictably, Harry is hard underneath his jeans and panties. “Wearing panties in front of tens of thousands of people. On _tour DVD night_ , of all nights? What if they rode up? What if no one catches it when they're editing the film and a million people get a take-home copy of Harry Styles in panties on DVD?”

 

 

Harry's eyes flutter shut as he leans his head against the wall behind him, letting out a pained breath. He has a great face, his Harry, terribly expressive. Louis is certain he’s was the only one who’s ever seen this face, though: a perfect blend of deep humiliation and undeniable arousal.

 

 

“And you've been teasing me,” Louis goes on, leaning peppering the skin of Harry's neck with kisses and nibbles even as he keeps his body apart, denying Harry the friction he seems to want against his hips that shift and buck in little abortive thrusts. “Think it's funny to talk shit in front of eighty thousand or so, when I'm not allowed to talk shit back?”

 

 

Harry is silent.

 

 

“Good girls don't do that, Harry.” Louis says, voice low and stern. “Can't be a girl if you're not going to be good.”

 

 

Harry’s voice is small, rough and broken _already_ : “I can be good.”

 

 

“Put this on, then.” Louis hands Harry the bra and steps back, stripping himself down to his black briefs as he watches Harry pulling his own jeans off and struggling to clasp the bra together behind himself. Really, actually struggling.

 

 

“Pathetic effort,” Louis says, mean, shaking his head.

 

 

Hands still behind his back, Harry looks at Louis, eyes wide, the beginnings of a blush evident on his cheeks at his failure to manage something as simple as a bra clasp.

 

 

“Come here,” Louis says, indicating for Harry to turn around. “I'll take care of it for you.”

 

 

Harry closes the distance between them and turns around, exposing his back and the unfastened bra.

 

 

“I'll always take care of you,” Louis says, pulling the two ends taught and fixing the little hooks properly. “You're my girl.”

 

 

*

 

Niall is half-asleep on his feet when he steps off the elevator, nodding at a security guard he doesn’t know the name of yet. Further down the corridor, down the end where all their rooms are. He’s pleasantly full and looking forward to sleep more than anything else, and is considering the merits of interrupting Louis and Harry’s post-show snog to claim his charger back, when he stops dead at the door opposite his.

 

The _open_ door.

 

The _open_ door, with uncomfortably familiar sounds audible from the room beyond. Soft sucking sounds, an obstructed moan that’s recognizably Harry, the murmur of Louis’ voice. Niall rolls his eyes, fully prepared to just pull the door shut and throw something at Louis tomorrow, the bloody _exhibitionist_ , when he hears something that makes him pause.

   
"You wanna  _do Niall,_  huh baby girl?”

 

 

Niall takes a step into the room, almost reflexively, hand curling around the edge of the door. The end of a bed comes into view, but Niall has to take another step to see Louis sitting on the edge, Harry on his knees between Louis’ thighs. In profile, Harry’s head almost isn’t visible as he bobs low, but Niall can see the emerald of his panties, and something white across his back –

 

Jesus _feck_.

 

Harry’s wearing a _bra._ A white bra, cutting tight across the tanned skin of his back, too-small and cheap-looking, nothing like his expensive panties. Louis is still talking.

 

  
"You think he could fuck a girl like you half as good as I’m going to?”

 

 

Niall’s pretty sure Harry’s a _guy_ , but Harry makes a sound that isn’t anything like protest, and Niall takes another step forward, pushing the door closed behind him, and all of a sudden he can see where Harry’s mouth is stretched open around Louis’ cock.

 

  
"Speak up, darling,” Louis all but _purrs_ , and Niall’s pretty sure Louis knows Niall’s there, though he hasn’t looked up. “Good girls answer questions when they’re asked.”

 

Harry pulls off Louis’ cock with a pop, lips smacking together. “No,” he says, and his voice is rough. It sounds exactly like somebody’s been fucking his throat, mouth cockhead-pink and shiny with spit and precome, like his own personal brand of lipgloss.

 

“No _what_?” Louis asks, fingers winding through Harry’s curls. Niall realises almost absently that there’s a pretty green bow in his hair, the same colour as his underwear.

 

 

“No, I don’t think he could fuck me as good as you,” Harry says, shifting his arse where it’s resting on his feet – bloody yoga-practicing hippie – drawing Niall’s attention once more to those panties, which are actually a pretty good fit, like they’ve been bought especially for him, not just something thrown at them onstage.

 

“I think you do,” Louis says. “After all, what did you say onstage?”

 

Harry mumbles something, too soft for Niall to catch. He finds himself straining forward to hear, taking another half-step into the room.

 

 

“I didn’t hear you, baby girl.”

 

 

Niall should definitely not be watching this. He’s heard enough, _seen_ enough that he should be backing away, finding somewhere else to not-think about the way he’s hard and throbbing in his trackies at the sight of one of his bandmates on his knees for another.

 

“I said _I’d do Niall_ ,” Harry says, tone and jut of his chin defiant, looking up at Louis, who smiles.

 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “It wasn’t very nice, teasing Niall like that. Teasing _me_ like that. You were such a naughty girl, Harry. And you know what happens to naughty girls, don’t you?”

 

“They get punished,” Harry says, looking down at his own knees, moment of defiance gone.

 

“Very good. Over my lap, baby.”

 

Harry rises from his knees easily, if a bit reluctantly, and he has a hand on Louis’ thigh and is moving himself into position over Louis’ lap when he catches sight of Niall. His breath rattles out of him and he freezes.

 

 

Niall shifts awkwardly, taking a half-step to the side that has the unintended effect of giving him a better view, uncomfortably hard and most definitely caught watching his bandmates fool around.

 

Louis runs a hand up Harry’s back. “Something the matter?”

 

“N-Niall,” Harry manages, before he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, already red and abused-looking.

 

“Yes,” Louis says, matter-of-fact, still not looking at Niall. “Across my lap, Harry, come on.”

 

 

Harry lowers himself down, facing Niall and the door, Louis running a hand down his thigh to press a thumb at the thin skin behind his knee and push his legs farther apart. Harry wiggles on his lap, obediently spreading his legs, beautifully awkward and exposed. Even more of Niall’s blood and good sense rushes south, to where his dick is _throbbing_ now, and Niall has to reach down and adjust himself, notes the way Harry’s eyes follow the movement, dark and hungry.

 

“You weren’t very good tonight, Harry. Five, I think, for teasing me, and five for teasing our Niall.”

 

Harry whines, makes a small movement in Louis’ lap.

 

“Does that sound fair, Nialler?”

 

“Um,” Niall says, feeling pinned in place as Louis looks up at him for the first time. Of all the things Niall expected to see in Louis’ gaze – irritation at Niall and Harry’s onstage flirting, outright anger at the bloody _dickslapping_ , judgement at his current state of hardness from perving on his friends – Niall’s not expecting to see _lust_. But Louis’ pupils are wide and dark, even as his gaze is steady.

 

 

Niall takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Um – I think it sounds fair.” What the everloving _fuck_ is he doing?

 

Louis grins, and looks down to watch his hand crack across Harry’s arse.

 

Harry jerks at the hit, but relaxes instantly. _“One!”_

 

“See,” Louis practically croons, “I knew you could be a good girl, Harry.”

 

Harry only tenses slightly when Louis hits him again with a crack, in almost exactly the same place.

 

 

  
_“Two!”_   Niall watches as three, four and five follow in rapid succession before Louis pauses to trace the skin underneath his fingertips. Niall’s moved closer, he realises. He doesn’t remember doing so.

 

“ _Six_ ,” Harry says, sounding absolutely _wrecked_ as Louis starts up again. “ _Seven_.”

 

The next two blows fall on the tender spot where cheek meets thigh, looking blisteringly red under Louis’ hand.

 

“Ni- _nin_ e.” And there's actual tears at that, blotchy red high on Harry's cheeks, and Niall's always known Harry was fit, but there's nothing as attractive as seeing his bandmate so utterly wrecked, biting his lip and unable to muffle the sounds he makes every time Louis snaps his hand across Harry’s arse.

 

“ _T-ten_!” Harry says, and relaxes, going slack over Louis’ lap.

 

Louis traces the scalloped edge of Harry’s panties where the impact has pressed the pattern into his skin. “Who do you want, Harry?”

 

Harry’s breath hitches. “You, I promise!”

 

A finger teases over his hole, pressing the lace inwards. "Really? You don't wish it was him between your thighs, baby girl?”

 

  
“No, _please_.”

 

“You don’t wish it was _both_ of us?”

 

 

“I don’t-” Harry lets out a shaky breath, and hangs his head, forehead pressed against Louis’ knee. “Y- _yes, Louis_.”

 

Niall shifts his weight again. He really, really has to get out of here. The movement catches Louis’ attention, though, and he says, “Wait a sec, Nialler.”

 

 

“Yeah?” Niall manages, aiming for casual and failing miserably. _If you don’t mind, I’d like to slink off for a wank and then pretend none of this ever happened._

"Harry said if he was a girl, he’d do you. It just so happens, Harry is a girl tonight. On your knees for me, baby.”

 

Harry stretches, the movement sinuous and oddly graceful as he moves. Harry slides back to his knees on the hotel carpet, and Niall’s knees ache in sympathy. He can see how Harry’s practically salivating, eyes rapt on where Louis has taken himself in hand.

 

“Come take a seat, Ni,” Louis says, patting the space beside him with his free hand. “Harry’s going to show you what a good girl he can be.”

 

Niall hesitates, then takes the two steps needed to get to the bed. When had he gotten so _close_? He sits himself down next to Louis, so close their thighs are touching, but Louis is looking at where Harry’s on his knees in front of them. Louis pokes Harry’s naked thigh with a foot, casual.

 

"Niall's not a slut like you, won’t just do anyone, so you've got to make him really want it, show him that no girl sucks cock better than you do.”

 

Harry’s biting his lip, but he doesn’t move - even when Louis taps the head of his dick on Harry’s beautiful mouth, all he does is stop biting, mouth going slack so Louis can smear precome all over his lips.

 

 

“Go on, then,” Louis says, lazy, and Harry leans forward eagerly, hands still on his own thighs. "Show him how much you want it, Harry, and maybe I'll let him fuck your mouth later.”

 

 

Jesus _fuck_.

 

  
Harry leans in, all beautiful intent mouth, and takes Louis’ cock in his mouth gently. He bobs down in one smooth motion, and this close Niall can hear the slick sound of his mouth working, the noise his throat makes when Louis’ dick makes him gag, the way he swallows and hums. He pulls back, lips puckered around the head of the cock in his mouth, before shoving himself back down. Niall’s dick throbs in his pants at the sight, and he palms himself awkwardly.

 

Louis is leaning back on his hands, not even touching Harry except for where his dick is making itself at home in Harry’s throat, and fuck, the idiot’s got to _sing_  tomorrow, but he’s working himself down on cock like he’s starving for it, hard and fast and brutal like he’s being skullfucked, but this is all Harry, he just  _wants_  it so desperately. He’s just going to town, pushing so far down that Niall can see how his throat is spasming around Louis, before pulling off to catch his breath and kiss the head of Louis’ dick.

 

“All those screaming girls tonight, Harry, they'd kill to be where you are, trying to prove you’re good enough for us. You don't just get to ‘do' Niall. You haven't earned it yet."

 

The walls of this hotel, like every one they’ve ever stayed in, seem to be made of paper, and Niall can hear the dull roar from outside even now. Niall rubs his dick through his trackies, so fucking turned on by Louis’ dirty talk, humiliating and hot.

 

"Hear how bad they want him, Harry?” Louis pulls him off, hands cradling Harry’s jaw, ignoring the way Harry’s mouth automatically tries to chase the head of Louis’ dick. "Do you want him that much? I don’t know if you do.”

 

Harry’s eyes slant sideways to Niall, catching his gaze even as Louis drops his hand and Harry pushes forward again, mouth blindly seeking cock, eyes still locked on Niall’s as he kisses the head of Louis’ dick, sucks it back inside his mouth.

 

 

“Come on, you can do better than that - was that *teeth*?"

 

Harry’s eyes flick back to Louis’, instantly contrite. He makes an apologetic sound around the cock in his mouth.

 

“Oh no,” Louis tuts. He looks to Niall. "Did you see anyone you liked on the way in, Ni? Maybe there’s someone out there that’s better behaved.”

 

 

Harry’s eyebrows draw together in worry as he whimpers. And Niall’s starting to get that Harry gets off on being humiliated, that he should lead where Louis follows, so he says, “Yeah, Italian girls are pretty. There was a few who flashed their tits at me."

 

 

“Maybe,” Louis says, sounding contemplative, and fuck, Niall has never appreciated Tommo’s ability to talk shit more, “Maybe there’s a girl whose panties match her bra. Harry here’s wearing something he picked up onstage. She doesn’t know where it’s been. Such a dirty girl. I don’t know if she’s good enough for us, Niall, I really don’t. Fuck, I’m sorry."

 

Harry pulls off Louis’ cock, gasping. “Oh please, I can be good, Louis, I promise, I’ll be a good girl-"

 

 

Louis looks at him seriously. “Can you? Niall likes girls, so you're going to have to be a very  _very_  good girl for him. Do you think you can do that, Harry?"

 

Harry’s eyes are wide as he nods earnestly. His dick looks like he’s practically sprung a leak, the damp spot in the front of his panties is so big.

 

“Up,” Louis says. “Over the bed, come on."

 

Harry scrambles to follow orders, not so much getting to his feet as throwing his hips at the bed, chest pressed flat against it with his feet on the floor. He ruts against the edge of the bed once, twice, almost unconsciously, before Louis’ hand cracks down on his arse.

 

“None of that,” Louis says sternly. “I thought you were going to be good?"

 

“I am, I am!"

 

Niall laughs, standing up. He circles around to where Harry’s stretched over the foot of the bed, confident in his ability to look without stepping on Louis’ toes. “Doesn’t seem like you’re very good, Haz."

 

  
Louis comes to stand beside him.  "You think she's as pretty as all the other girls you've fucked, Niall?"

 

“Don’t know,” Niall says, feeling bold. “Can’t really see."

 

“Oh, we can fix that,” Louis says, reaching out to palm over Harry’s arse, tugging emerald satin down. 

 

"Think you can get her as wet as you do all the girls?”

 

He leaves the panties to sit awkwardly below the curve of Harry’s arsecheeks, revealing smooth, smooth skin, a hole that’s pink and perfect and inviting and fuck - _glistening_ , wet with lube. The kinky little bastard, already prepped and ready to go.

 

“I think I already have,” Niall says.

 

 

Louis reaches out, one finger tracing the rim of Harry’s hole. The little pink pucker flutters around the touch, as if trying to suck Louis inside.

 

“I think your little cunt is hungry,” Louis says, voice completely calm, as if he’s discussing the bloody weather. “Would you like something inside it, Harry?"

 

“Yes,” Harry says, and it sounds like he’s talking through clenched teeth. “Yes _please_."

 

“Well, looks like someone’s remembered their manners,” Louis says, and slowly, slowly pushing his index finger inside.

 

Niall watches, more turned on than he’s ever been in his _life_ , watching the way Harry’s arse - Harry’s _cunt_  clutches at Louis’ finger, that pretty little pucker of muscle.

 

“Do you think he deserves another, Ni?"

 

“Yes,” Harry puts in, and Louis smacks his arse with his free hand.

 

“I didn’t ask you,” he says, “I asked-"

 

Niall’s hand has reached out of its own accord, sliding one finger against that tight furl of muscle and sliding easily inside slick, tight heat. They’re palm-to-palm with their fingers inside Harry, and it should be awkward but it’s _not_ , it’s the hottest thing Niall’s ever seen, and he rocks his finger out when Louis pushes his further in, catching the rhythm easily. And Niall has a moment of, uh, _arse_ , but fuck if Harry isn’t the tightest thing ever, and the thought of getting to _fuck_ him - Niall’s dick twitches in his trackies, cock spurting precome. Harry’s taking both his fingers and two of Louis’ now, moaning like a whore and clenching around them, trying to push back for more. Louis ignores his unspoken demand, though.

 

 

“Such a pretty little hole, isn’t it, Niall. Would you like to fuck it?”

 

 

Niall looks at Louis. Okay, he might have his finger in Louis’ boyfriend’s arse, but fucking it seems like it’s on the other side of a line that, if crossed, means nothing will ever be the same.

 

Louis looks back at him seriously. He quirks an eyebrow, an unspoken, _you game_?

 

Niall must look ridiculous, he nods so fast in reply.

 

Louis smirks, wicked and hot as fuck, and crooks his finger inside Harry, making his whole body jerk as he goes even _tighter_  around their fingers.

 

“Of all the things in the whole world you could have picked,” Louis says, "you picked _doing_   _Niall_. If you want it so bad, you have to ask nicely.”

 

 

“Please,” Harry says instantly. He sounds fucking _wrecked_ , and if three fingers in your arse makes you feel that good, Niall might just have to try it next time he has a wank.

 

Louis looks at Niall expectantly, and Niall realises with a start that he hasn’t been paying attention. “Uh,” he says. “Please  _what_?”

 

 

“Please Niall, please fuck me, I’ve been a good girl, I swear, I’ll make it so good for you-"

 

 

“See, Nialler,” Louis says, fingers wrapping around Niall’s and tugging both their digits out, "I think Harry wants you to, but do you think she deserves it? Niall's seen a lot of pretty holes, Harry, what makes you think you deserve him in yours?"

 

*

 

Harry is running out of polite ways to say _put your cocks in_ _me already_ , so he flops over onto his back, scrabbling backwards so he’s more firmly on the bed.

 

“Please,” he says, hooking his hands behind his knees and drawing his legs up. The satin, damp from precome and more than slightly uncomfortable, is still stretched tight, tucking his dick and balls up out of the way so they both can see the way he’s fucking _begging_ for it, cunt fluttering open and leaking the lube he’d squirted inside himself before they left the stadium.

 

Niall looks like he’s having a religious experience, red spots high on pale cheeks as his gaze sharpens and focuses in on Harry’s arse. Harry feels - _naughty_ , exposed and humiliated and so damn turned on. Louis is smirking down at him, and there’s not much Harry wouldn’t do for that smirk.

 

Harry just wants to be _dicked_ already, but he has to be polite, otherwise Louis won’t let him have it. He can just imagine having to watch while Louis and Niall get each other off, and the thought of being ignored makes him whine, arching his back, begging. “ _Please_."

 

Niall looks keen, he looks _ready_ , but his eyes flick to Louis, who’s still got that _smirk_  on his face, and Harry whines again, because he knows what’s coming -

 

“You should try her mouth,” Louis says, and Harry feels like crying _,_ because that is _not_  where he needs dick right now, "let her show you how much she wants it.”

 

It’s not that Harry doesn’t _want_  to suck Niall, he watches with keen eyes as Niall slips off his trackies, revealing a cock flushed ruddy and straining up against his belly, disappearing behind fingers as Niall jacks himself, settling himself onto the bed. Harry twists himself around to keep watch as he props himself up against the headboard, legs out in front.

 

“Come on then,” Niall says, suddenly bold. “Show me how much you want me, then."

 

  
Harry crawls forward, not even looking Niall in the eye, too focused on Niall’s dick, mouth swollen and used already but he’s about to take _more_ , and maybe if he’s good enough at it, Niall will _do_  him, maybe they both will -

 

Harry opens his mouth, and swallows Niall down.

 

He tastes different to Louis, slightly sweeter, and the presence of cock is familiar against his tongue even as he’s cataloguing with his mouth all the ways they’re different, suckling just under the head of Niall’s cock, making him swear.

 

“G-good girl,” Niall says, voice shaky, and Harry feels a rush of pride. He did that. He made Nialler sound like that. He takes a deep breath, and opens his throat.

 

Niall’s dick is thicker than Louis’, Harry thinks idly, swallowing it down, lost in the sensation of servicing cock, his entire being narrowed down to this one purpose. He sucks and hums, tongue putting hours of practice to work in making Niall groan.

 

 

“You’re such a mess,” Niall says, reaching out to touch the reflexive tears running down one cheek, and then, emboldened by Harry’s moan at that, adds, “Such - such a messy girl.” Yep, with Louis’ example, it didn’t take long for him to catch on to what makes Harry hot _at all_. 

 

Niall’s balls are drawing up tight under Harry’s fingers, and he’s breathing hard, starting to pant, and Harry closes his eyes, prepares himself to take Niall even deeper, to swallow around Niall’s cock as he comes down Harry’s throat -

 

An arm snakes around Harry’s chest and pulls him away.

 

Harry _mewls_  at the loss, and Niall’s swearing, and they’re both lucky Harry didn’t instinctively bite down to keep his mouthful - that could have ended very, very badly. Louis tugs Harry back, because he’s a _bastard_ , and it’s all Harry can do to watch, hungry, as Niall strokes himself. His own cock is trapped against his belly, hard in his panties until Louis rips them down, and Harry  _sobs._

“Please!"

 

*

 

Louis is a fucking _tease_. Niall’s had his fingers inside Harry, his cock down Harry’s talented _throat_ , and he still hasn’t gotten off. Worst threesome _ever_ , he thinks, jacking his dick, right before Louis pulls Harry’s panties down, taking his knees out from under him. Harry rubs shamelessly against the bed for a moment, cock free of the damp satin Louis throws to the bed beside Niall.

 

“Alright, baby,” Louis says, smacking him on the arse again. “Get up there and ask nicely if you can do Niall."

 

Harry scrambles to his knees. “Please,” he says, and desperation’s never been a _thing_  for Niall before, but all this begging is hot as fuck, “please let me ride you, Ni. I’ll make it so good, I promise."

 

Long fingers close around Niall’s own, and Niall releases his dick to the tender ministrations of Harry’s fingers. “Okay,” he says, hands coming up to steady Harry’s hips as he straddles Niall’s lap.

 

Harry’s taller than him like this, all tanned skin and tattoos and scratchy cheap lace of the bra cutting across his chest, and Niall looks up and watches the way Harry bites his lip, one hand on Niall’s shoulder for balance at the same time the other is lining Niall’s dick up. Niall swears at the feeling of Harry’s hole against the head of his cock, watches the way Harry’s head drops forward in pleasure as Niall is suddenly enveloped in slick, grasping heat, Harry sinking down his cock in one smooth, sweet glide.

 

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Niall swears. He’s never fucking anyone else again, he’s going to have to fight Louis for the pleasure of this, nobody else will ever compare to the overwhelming amazing feeling of Harry -

 

“Um,” he gasps, even as Harry gets his knees under him and starts to move, pulling up and almost off Niall’s dick, “we didn’t - we didn’t use a-"

 

“Oops,” Harry says, pausing, up on his knees with only the head of Niall’s dick inside him. He tightens around it, and Niall’s eyes roll back in his head. He’s never done it without a rubber before, and it makes every part of the whole experience that much more intense, the wet glide of flesh in the clenching perfection of Harry’s insides.

 

“We all had physicals two weeks ago,” Louis puts in, and Niall opens his eyes to see Louis beside him on the bed, stroking himself. “Our panels all came back clean, and I know you haven’t slept with anyone since then."

 

 

“Right,” Niall says weakly.

 

Harry obviously takes that as permission, because he slides down again, arching in pleasure as Niall’s cock bumps something inside him.

 

“If she rides you well enough,” Louis says, “you can just go on and come inside that pretty cunt."

 

Niall’s hands tighten on Harry’s hips. The things coming out of Louis’ mouth should be _illegal_ , not to mention the way Harry’s bouncing on his cock, fucking himself down like it’s his whole world, his only purpose.

 

“Don’t you dare come, though, baby girl. You haven’t earned it yet."

 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Niall hisses. “Louis, I don’t know how you don’t fuck this _all the time_."

 

Harry grins, wide and beaming, proud. His eyes are all pupil, curls damp against his face as he works himself up and down.

 

“She’s good at that, isn’t she,” Louis says, and Niall kind of envies his ability to sound unaffected, even as his cock is drooling against his fingers, hips making little movements up into his hand.

 

“The best,” Niall manages, thrusting up just a tiny bit, feeling the way Harry’s cunt is working him with _effort_  now, milking him and pushing him closer, closer to the edge -

 

“Are you going to give her what she wants, Niall? Going to come inside my pretty girl? _Do_ her properly?"

 

“Yessss,” NIall hisses, pulling Harry down _hard_  and keeping him there as he comes.

  
_“Oh,”_  Harry says, sounding surprised, eyes fluttering shut as he tightens up around Niall even _more_ , abdominals jumping under Niall’s thumb as he milks the dick inside of him.

 

It’s a long, long moment before Niall goes lax, dick softening inside Harry.

 

“Got what you wanted, did you?” Louis asks, watching the way Harry shifts off Niall’s dick, and oh _fuck_ , Niall can feel his own come slipping out of Harry’s hole, wet against his thigh.

 

 

 “Please, Lou,” Harry says, looking to his boyfriend now, on hands and knees with his face just inches from Louis’ dick once more, "I’ve been good, please. I want - want you  _both_ , please."

 

*

 

Louis smiles, all teeth. His greedy baby eyes the dick straining against Louis’ belly.

 

 

“That’s being greedy, Harry,” Louis says, sliding off the bed. Harry looks crestfallen at the loss. “Good girls take what they’re given.”

 

Harry hangs his head. “Please,” he begs. Oh, he begs so beautifully.

 

Louis touches his palm down between Harry’s shoulder blades, and his good girl just _crumples_ , folding down so his shoulders are touching the bed, cheek flat on the sheet, face turned towards Niall because Louis’ baby is a born performer. His arse is high and ready, knees spread to allow easy access to his cunt.

 

 

Louis looks up at Niall, who’s watching the way Harry arches so prettily under Louis’ touch.

 

"I don’t know, Niall. Do you think she deserves us both?”

 

 

“That’s up to you, I guess,” Niall says. “Was pretty good for me, though."

 

“Hmmm,” Louis says, pretending to think about it. “Well,” he says eventually, kneeing his way onto the bed, “ _I’m_  certainly going to come."

 

He lines himself up with the ease of much practice and thrusts in hard. Harry moans, long and loud, cunt sucking Louis in.

 

“Such a sloppy little cunt,” Louis says. “All full of Niall’s come. Did you say thankyou, baby girl?"

 

“Than-thankyou!” Harry all but shouts. “Thankyou for doing me, Niall.” He squeaks as Louis fucks in hard, hitting Harry’s prostate dead on.

 

“Shhh,” Louis says. “Not so loud.” He catches sight of the ruined panties by Niall’s hip. “Shut her up with those, will you, Nialler?"

 

Niall follows his gaze. His jaw drops as he realises what Louis means, and Louis rolls his eyes, because, really? _This_  is going to shock him? Slowly, Niall reaches for the wad of satin and lace.

 

“Open up that pretty mouth now,” Louis says, and Harry does. His eyes must be reassuring, because Niall shoves the panties in Harry’s mouth with sudden confidence, and Harry moans around the fabric as Louis sets a punishing rhythm. Harry’s got his arms pillowed under his head like a good girl, but Louis can see his fingers twitch, knows he’s aching to touch himself.

 

Louis smirks, moving over Harry’s body, folding himself onto hands and knees so Harry can feel the length of his body as his hips thrust in and out, in and out. He makes Harry take his weight, bringing his hands up to brush over the empty cups of the bra. 

 

  
“Shame my girl can’t even fill out her bra,” he says, and Harry whimpers. “Still, I guess that’s why she doesn’t have any bras of her own. Doesn’t need them.” He crushes the nylon to Harry’s chest, fingers drawing little circles as he presses the scratchy lace over sensitive nipples.

 

Harry moans around his mouthful, back arching further, which has the unintended but nonetheless lovely effect of pushing his arse up higher into Louis’ thrusts.

 

“Like that, baby?” Louis asks and watches as Harry nods frantically. “You want to come?”

 

More nodding, this time accompanied by a plea through satin and lace.

 

“Too bad,” Louis says, thrusting faster now, his own orgasm approaching, “good girls don’t come until they’re told."

 

Harry _sobs_  at the denial, and Louis can see tears leaking from his eyes, fucks himself inside once, twice more, and comes.

 

*

 

Harry is so, so close to orgasm, so hard it _hurts_ , cunt tender and hot, nipples raw, sodden fabric heavy on his tongue, and he’s crying into the bedsheets. He _loves_ Louis, loves that Louis can give him this.

 

Louis draws his cock out of Harry with a sigh, pats his arse. “Such a pretty little cockslut, isn’t she, Niall?”

 

“Gorgeous,” Niall says, sounding fucked-out and sleepy.

 

“Please,” Harry begs. “Please let me come."

 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, Haz,” Louis says. He fucks two fingers into Harry’s cunt. “You’re fucked open and sloppy with come, but still so beautiful.” He removes his fingers abruptly, and Harry wordlessly protests the loss, clenching his sphincter up tight as if that’ll make Louis’ fingers come back, when they're at his face, those same fingers pulling soaked satin out of his mouth before pushing inside. The taste of come spikes on his tongue, salty and familiar, and Harry suckles at Louis’ fingers.

 

“There you go,” Louis says gently. “You’ve been so good, baby girl. Go on and fuck against the bed, now."

 

“Can I-"

 

“You can come."

 

Harry sobs, dropping to his belly. He’s so very, very close that it only takes a moment, not ten seconds of rutting into the bed before he’s crying out at finally, _finally_ being allowed to come. Finally having earned it.

 

 

“Shhh,” Louis says, gathering him up and arranging Harry’s exhausted limbs so he’s draped over Louis’ torso, back pressed against Niall’s side. “You were so good, baby.” Gentle fingers comb through his curls. “So very good. And you did Niall, didn’t you?"

 

“Yes,” Harry says, smug.

 

Harry drifts for a moment, lax in the afterglow, cuddled up to the man he loves.

 

Beside him, Niall shifts awkwardly. “Um-"

 

“Don’t you _dare_ move, you knob,” Louis says. “After-shag cuddles are the best part."

 


End file.
